


How it Feels to Have a Heartbeat (I'm Trying to Remember)

by thenotyetpublishedpen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Cuddling on the roof at dawn, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, One Shot, Remus Lupin's Birthday, description of werewolf transformation, not actively happening but mentioned, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenotyetpublishedpen/pseuds/thenotyetpublishedpen
Summary: Finding each other again had been hard. After all those years of mistrust and mourning, they were not the children they’d been when they’d met. Bright eyed and full of hope and mischief, those boys had gone into the war and never returned.Remus and Sirius have a quiet morning celebrating Remus' birthday on the roof of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.A 1,996 word fic to celebrate Remus' birthday on March 10th, 1996.Set during the Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix book, but takes place months before the Battle at the Department of Mysteries.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	How it Feels to Have a Heartbeat (I'm Trying to Remember)

**Author's Note:**

> I condemn JKR’s transphobic views. As a member of the LGBT community I fully support my trans siblings. Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary people are valid in their identity. They deserve love, support, and respect. With my fan fiction work I aim to tell the stories of characters who weren’t primary characters within the original work and increase the representation of marginalized identities, whether that be gender, sexuality, or race. The Harry Potter world as a whole does belong to JKR, but the stories we create from it belong to us: the readers.

Remus watched the sun’s quiet rise from the roof of Number Twelve Grimmauld place. It started slowly, pinks and oranges muted by London smog. The colors kissed along the edges of the sky, offering their tempting hues to the dark gray until the clouds accepted their advances and brightened for them. Purples muddled into the mix now, deep and somber where the gray clinged on to its hold on the sky. The gray didn’t need to fight so hard. It would win again soon, after all. It always did. 

Thirty-six. He was thirty-six years old today and felt every day of it and more. Smoke from his cigarette curled upwards to join the filthy London air. He raised it to his lips to take a long drag and felt the heat fill his lungs, holding it for a long moment before exhaling out again, sending his own breath out over the city. Remus wondered where it would reach. Who would be touched by it. How fast would it dissipate out into the ether? He’d been without James and Lily for time and a half the length that he’d been with them, now. And still, the sun rose. It always rose. 

The moon slipped beneath the horizon as it made room for the day. Its form was thinning, waning away from the fullness that had met him five nights ago. He had the potion, now. That bitter wolfsbane that kept him quiet. Kept him tame. It did nothing for the pain of the transformations, of course. For the snapping and rejoining of bones, that horrible, audible crunch and rip as his skin stretched and tore to make room for his new shape. Did nothing to soothe the burn of fur bursting from every pore, spreading across his body like fungus feasting on something dead and rotting. He did not complain out loud. Drank the potion gratefully when it was offered. Clamped his jaws closed with enough force to crack teeth to stop any sound that might escape without his permission. He’d long stopped giving into the pain with his voice. No longer would he be the reason behind rumors of hauntings. He made sure that no other place would fall to the myth of the Shrieking Shack. Not due to him. 

The potion worked perfectly. It wasn’t meant to help with the pain. That wasn’t its point. It was wizard invented and worked the way wizards intended. It stopped him from being a danger to them. Kept him tame. Manageable. He wondered if they even knew that having perfect clarity during the moon was worse, in a way. Yes, he didn’t hurt himself physically. He could sleep through the night on a rug by the fire like some domesticated pet as no danger to anyone. He’d grown to almost look forward to those brief moments of relief, though. When he was purely instinct and existence without thought. 

Remus heard Sirius before he saw him. He heard his uneven, hesitating footsteps, so different from the smooth and arrogant walk that Remus remembered. Sirius hoisted himself out of the window and onto the roof with a quiet grunt, straining at the effort. Twelve years in Azkaban hadn’t been kind to him, body or spirit. 

“I woke up and the other side of the bed was empty. Figured you’d be out here,” Sirius said, voice rough with sleep.

He took Remus’ wrist and brought it to his mouth, taking a drag of the cigarette in Remus’ hand. His lips brushed against Remus’ fingers. They were still as soft as Remus remembered, though the words that came from them were rarely as gentle anymore.

Finding each other again had been hard. After all those years of mistrust and mourning, they were not the children they’d been when they’d met. Bright eyed and full of hope and mischief, those boys had gone into the war and never returned. Sirius had truly never left the war. That much was immediately obvious. He did not have the benefit of over a decade removed from fighting. Not that the twelve years of their separation had been easy for Remus, of course. They’d been hard. Harder than anything he’d ever experienced. More painful than the beast that tore from inside him at the beckoning of the moon and far more repetitive. But at least he’d been free.

Sirius moved closer so that he was leaned against Remus’ side, drawing warmth from him against the cool March air. Sirius had always run a bit cold. It was an excuse for physical affection, in the early days. Not that Sirius needed much of an excuse. He was always so tactile. Leaping onto his friends and lounging across their laps with absolutely no sense of boundaries or appropriateness. It had thrown Remus off, in the beginning. He hadn’t been used to casual touch. He longed for it now, though, turned towards it like a sunflower searching for the nourishment of the sun. It seemed that Azkaban had left a chill deep in Sirius’ bones. One that needed constant warming, constant affection to thaw the ice that lurked in his very marrow. 

Remus stubbed out the cigarette that had burned low and hot against his fingers on the roof and wrapped his arms around Sirius, drawing him closer. He climbed behind him so that Sirius sat in front, completely enveloped in Remus’ arms and then rested his chin on top of Sirius’ head, aided by the slant of the roof. Remus had missed this. He’d missed it so much, the feeling of wholeness that came from having someone who knew you so entirely held in your arms. He could feel the beating of Sirius’ heart against his own chest, could feel it flutter when he pressed his lips to the crown of Sirius’ head, to that place behind his ear. Sirius melted in his arms, leaning back into the warmth and comfort. 

“Happy birthday, Remus,” Sirius said, tilting his head back to look up at him. 

Gray eyes greeted Remus, so different from the gray of the sky. They were touched with blue, just enough to make you wonder at the true color of them. But there was warmth there. Such warmth. In moments like this they were overcome with softness. With the gentleness and spark of life that Remus remembered. Gone was the haunted look that chased him most days. The anxiety of a trapped animal that paced its cage. Remus couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him, awkward angle be damned. 

Sirius responded in kind and against his soft lips and warm breath Remus allowed himself to feel a spark of hope. These were dark times. He was not denying that. He could feel the war as if it were a physical presence, a being lurking in the corner of his vision, waiting to shake him and scream and make his blood run cold. But he had Sirius again. He was here and he was _innocent_ and it was more than Remus had let himself dream for twelve years. He loved him still. Despite everything, he’d probably never stopped loving him. Not entirely. The flame lit again far too easily. As soon as there was hope to spark it, his love burned with the rage of a wildfire. Remus couldn’t temper it. He never could, when it came to Sirius. 

“Molly will be by later with a cake. Chocolate. I wish I were going out to get it myself instead of asking her to pick it up like I’m a _child._ It only gives her more reason to treat me like one.” Sirius grumbled, pulling back from their kiss. 

“You two have got to get over this petty quarrel,” Remus said with a low laugh, “She just worries for you.” 

“Wish she wouldn’t.” 

“Maybe you can write again to Harry, later. Has he used the mirror yet?” Remus said, deftly changing the subject. Sirius couldn’t be argued with when he was like this. 

“He hasn’t. Maybe he hasn’t figured it out. I’ll show him this summer if he doesn’t get it to work by then.”

“It would be good for the two of you to be able to see each other more often. I swear, James practically lived in our flat through that mirror.”

Sirius laughed, a deep and honest sound. “That poor bloke saw more than he should have sometimes, too. We’ll remember to flip the mirror over when we aren’t using it, this time.” 

“That’s definitely best,” Remus agreed with a snort. It was good to keep Sirius thinking about the future. “Write to Harry. We’ll come up with a plan for this summer. We were able to keep him for a good bit of time this last summer, maybe we can extend it even more this go ‘round.” 

“I wonder if his fight club will extend into summer, too. Dumbledore’s Army, they’re calling it. What a kid. He would’ve done James proud.” 

“I wonder how long it will take them to get rid of that evil toad of a woman. Forcing her prejudices on children, it's disgusting. Abhorrent. Why Dumbledore hasn’t stuck in his heels and told her to get out yet is beyond me.” 

“Just give me the word, Remus, and I’ll go after Umbridge myself” Sirius said far too seriously for Remus to respond. 

The sun continued its climb into the sky. The colors of dawn were gone now, leaving London to wear its usual cloudy gray coat. Sirius was still relaxed in Remus’ arms and spoke without turning to look at Remus, staring out over the skyline’s crooked roofs and chimneys.

“Remember the birthday parties we used to have?”

“In the Gryffindor common room? What about that cake that you and James charmed so that the candles wouldn’t blow out?”

“I wonder if they ever got rid of the scorch marks on the ceiling from that.” 

“I thought McGonagall was going to kill us,” Remus laughed. 

“I’m still convinced that you put an expanding charm on our flat for the parties after we graduated. There’s no way we fit the entire Order in that little place.”

Remus chuckled conspiratorially, confirming that Sirius was indeed correct.

“Let’s do it again. Next year. Maybe they’ll have even cleared your name by your birthday, Sirius. We’ll find another too small flat on a far too noisy street and fill it with old furniture from the curb. Nothing fancy, nothing Victorian and gaudy. Though maybe a newer couch, this time. I’m not twenty anymore and that old thing hurt my back even then.” 

“We’ll have the record player going constantly, charmed to switch between records so that it never goes quiet.”

“It’ll have South-facing windows so you can get the most sun even on the rainy days.”

“We’ll have a second bedroom so that Harry can live with us whenever he wants.”

“Of course,” Remus agreed easily, “He can spend every winter holiday with us, if he’d like. And he only has a couple more years at school left with that damned blood protection charm. He can stay full time, after that, if he wants to. We’ll make sure he always has a home to return to.” 

“It’s perfect, Moony,” Sirius said with a voice that was soft and sleepy, “It’s a wonderful dream.” 

“It’s my birthday wish,” Remus reminded him, “That means it has to come true.” 

Sirius mumbled something that may have been “can’t say wishes out loud, they won’t come true,” but his voice was too slurred with sleep for Remus to really make it out. The early morning combined with the comfort of Remus’ body and the warmth of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds to greet them sent Sirius back to sleep. Remus didn’t mind. He loved slow mornings like this where he could ignore everything else about the world. Where it was just him and Sirius. Together. Content.

It was the best birthday he’d had in years.


End file.
